the dim patio doesn't care. suzie doesn't care. why should he? such a surly night, young yet in its tousled wisps of breeze, nevertheless teases from within jack a dull flame that stretches inexorably eastward toward what once was; and, accelerated by hope, dares to extrapolate, lapping finally upon the ravaged shores of what still could be. the night is glasslike, cool. jack looks like a blond koala.